Author's Notes:

Lots of delays and unfulfilled promises, I do apologize. Revelation towards updated writing styles that have stemmed from the parallel story God of Cookery which had unofficially become a focus for a few months.

The world looked down at its most recent hotspot with its usual stance of disapprobation. Just another foreign dictator and a ruthless regime to be taken down by the same old White Knights of peace and justice. Only this time, it wasn't just a self-proclaiming sovereignty. But a face in which the world recognized for his brutality and merciless campaign against free will.

This was the ballad of the Demon within the Himalayas. A person who willingly accepted the title of villain, or so many were led to believe. From national perspectives, he was a terrorist to some and the next Pol Pot to others. But on social media, Badala's identity had become popularized in the struggle of the weak against the strong. Almost akin to the struggles of the equally charismatic Che Guevara. To some, he fought against the silent injustice. While others regarded him as the prime reason their iterations of peace had not settled, the reason their lunch and gas prices had risen significantly over the last few days.

The ambiguity of the title "Demon" was something no one would normally regard as their national hero. And yet, he was. Not just to the Himalayan states, but to the populous of other Central Asian nations.

A hero can turn corrupt over time, but a demon who is already a known force of evil doing good is something the world had never seen before.

The world wondered through its network of social media and connections, "What's the Demon's next play?"

But then something else happened…

"We are Legion." Said the man on the hijacked live news telecast in United States military uniform, yet face concealed by an antagonistic balaclava with bone-white skeleton imprint upon it. Several others accompanied him in similar outfit, appearing live before five hundred million television sets around the world.

"Mdm President, former colleagues in the White House and Pentagon. We're those you abandoned in a foreign land to die for your whims and careers, to continue in your petty squanderings is to sought the end our great nation. But today, we are your pawns no more. All these things you've witnessed, our actions are ours alone and for our brothers and sisters who've passed on and those who still foolishly cling to the false image you've painted." The audience thought it nothing more than a playful prank at first. But when they declared responsibility for the nuclear accident and manipulating the expeditionary forces into the maw of the Himavanan Army. The world realized the true antagonists who had made them wrongfully accuse the United States.

This moment declaring itself the righteous arm of the masses, these were the true terrorists all along. Men and women of the US Army, Marines and Central Intelligence who believed that their country had wronged them in ways the ignorant masses truly didn't understand and had rebelled against their main authority.

This was the face of the traitors who formed the ranks of Legion. The screens of the television sets were dominated by the motif of a grim reaper skeleton with swinging death scythe plunged into a globe.

Han Feng thought him mad and would lead men down a self-destructive path like himself once before. But the end of the telecast had proved the strength of David Goh's convictions.

"To save my country, I would have to betray it."

These were the words he told Han Feng when the latter asked how he was going to convince the garrisoned senior commanders in Pakistan to surrender and how Badala would accept three regiments of former-American soldiers into his ranks and welcome their displaced accompanying families into his lands. By manufacturing a fictional personification of "evil" for the keepers of peace to vanquish.

For Badala who played the hand of the United States against itself, there was only going to be one single outcome. The United States might not only lose its global influence through credibility but might face the real and present threat of a one megaton nuclear warhead detonating within any of its major cities. A strike that no anti-ballistic missile defense, no patrolling naval fleets, or state-of-the-art surveillance systems could prevent. And behind its trigger was a man they called a demon. There was no room for negotiation if they were expecting him to reflect upon morality to stay his own hand. As if the same could be said about their own foreign policy and unyielding show of force through military might.

But even if the minds of the people behind bureaucracy and the general public were unwilling to face off with him. The system would make their offensive stance inevitable, because the system wasn't guided by mere emotional whims of one or two leaders, but by cold calculative logic. That was the reason Badala's victory against the US was assured.

Because he lived within the system once, he was its occupant as much as he was its victim. He understood the injustice of the system on its own people. And why he chose to rule with his people than rule over them. This was why despite being the Demon of Kyrat, he could not be villainized by his own countrymen. A nation of collective conscience, all for one and one for all. An inverse of what the United States had become.

Perhaps it was their inability to go against their individualist nature that led them down this path. After all, the Badala he knew was a manipulator of fears. In the sense that it brought out the worst in his victim such that his or her actions become viewed as unjust. A system couldn't be manipulated, but the people benefiting and running it were. He lured them with ambitions of conquering the Himalayas natural resources. When ensnared by failure, he then threatened their way of live, their careers, their reputations. He'd done so to the previous President and Paul Lynch. Using their fears to his advantage, was this strategic genius or coincidence in play?

But David saw a way that could prevent this inevitable outcome from taking place and yet bring Washingtons' attention away from Badala by giving them a greater just cause to pursue.

And that cause was to hunt down, Legion.

The fabrication of a lie made from nothing.

The renegade army overseas in Pakistan who had broken all ties with the government and formed their own rebel organisation for the dismantling of the US Government itself. Plus, they'd just owned up for all the mistakes that the Government had made, so why not let them take the fall?

And so, it fell onto Legion. The army of "undead" soldiers, discarded, left for dead. Soldiers without a nation. David had intentionally caused the disavowing of every US military member and civilian in Pakistan. This was why in the regards of Han Feng and the Jatayu, he was genuinely more evil to their own lord.

In a way, Han Feng understood the fine line of loyalty to country that David and those who followed him had that they were willing to be branded the culprits on their nation's behalf, even if they were to be chased down to the ends of the earth. He himself, didn't possess this sort of loyalty. Not at the moment, he believed. But the Americans in Legion did. And they were counting on him to relay their plea for asylum in Kyrat. Would Badala accept them?

On one hand, he would be gaining a whole army and piece of culture he once grew up in for his country. Soldiers, airmen, mechanics and specialists who were skilled, experienced and trained by none other than the world's most powerful army.

But on the flipside, how deep was their loyalty to former homeland truly? Wouldn't they betray the Federation who shelters them at the first sign of change? The people of Kyrat were no strangers to traitors, but would Ajay truly show the same style of mercy he showed the Cantons? Whatever thoughts David had himself over the outcome, it had aged him significantly to the point there were white hairs for someone in his thirties.

In any case, much of the ride to their destination was smooth and without incident. Partly due to the suspension of the MRAP vehicles, and another part towards their unhindered journey along the main highway. Closed off to civilians whilst under martial law, the only ones driving over the bitumen roads was the Pakistani war machine.

An endless row of armoured fighting vehicles lined up as if there were a military coup. In truth, they couldn't be sure if there was one happening amidst the chaos. One thing that remained the same was the army's relation to both US and Himavanan forces. They happened to bump into a Pakistani colonel along the way, stating their intentions for transparency sake and were rewarded with a liaison officer.

As it appears there was a situation brewing at the US embassy that required the attention of US affiliated personnel. Legally speaking, embassy grounds were equivalent to the host nation's territorial soil. The PAF weren't about to violate those restrictions even in their state of civil unrest.

But if terrorists and enemy nations to the US, say the Federation and Legion wanted to enter, it was the embassy interior security's responsibility to safeguard its grounds, not theirs. However, the situation had changed as the liaison officer Captain Faisal informed them.

They were receiving reports of attacks from feral or rabid hosts from the nearby foreign embassies. Forced to gun them down with extreme prejudice after they inflicted serious casualties to the delegates of the embassies. As the majority of consulates belonging to Pakistans allies were all gathered in one precinct.

"We've locked down the entire area, three blocks from ground zero. This is being treated as a chemical attack." Faisal relayed the information about the military blockade placed around the US embassy.

The government had apparently called up Washington only to receive no reply, perhaps their state of office was in as much anarchy. The local military suspected a leakage of contraband mutagen or bio-chemical substances smuggled in by the CIA that had contaminated the site and all residence residing within. As the convoy of Marauder MRAPs drove by, soldiers were crouched behind sandbag emplacements. Donned in gas masks and chemical suits appropriate to the occasion as were the de-contamination sprinklers the convoy drove through.

It was better this way, not knowing the truth of the situation that Han Feng and the Jatayu in particular could sense even from miles away.

This was the work of witchcraft.

Perkins and David had limited experience in regards to the Golden Path exalts who were already equivalent to living tanks or powered exoskeletons the likes of which CNS seem to prove that technology existed. But the Jatayu had fought with their Rakshasa counterparts as well.

The convoy grinded to a halt, outside what was basically an armed blockade facing one direction. Dismounting their rides, the Jatayu began to arm themselves alongside the new members of Legion. Soldiers from the US Marine, Airforce and Army branches who had aligned themselves with David's Force Recon Teams' motives. Their expressions were grim, while they agreed with David's terms, not everyone was as forthcoming. Some had even tried to kill them, threaten to report them to the highest authority. For those that did, there was only one end that they could face. But even so, the members of Legion understood the importance of their actions from now onwards. The fate of their families here was of the highest priority.

"Damn, the ski mask is itching my face!" Perkins pulled of the balaclava in annoyance to comically scratch his face all over.

"What were you expecting, Gregor? That it was fun to join the terrorist club?" He earned a barrel of laughs from his peers, but his humourous position had lighten some of their moods and it was all thanks to him.

"(Sigh) Oh!- Sorry." He realized that he was blocking a stretcher carrying a wounded soldier and stepped aside quickly. The medics only eyed them momentarily before being on their way.

It was there that they caught sight of rows of more greviously injured awaiting casevac and columns of covered corpses just next to them.

"The front guard tells me they've weathered most of the assault away." Captain Faisal came back to tell them the developments, but they could see it all around for themselves.

"What do you mean most of it?" Perkins couldn't believe this was all.

"He means, they've taken a body count to match the occupants." Han Feng said as he picked up a logbook of guests from the checkpoint now occupied by the Hazmat soldiers.

"Your lieutenant is correct." Faisal affirmed.

"Right, so what now?"

"Call in your officers and NCOs." David did just that as Han Feng called on his own set of leaders to the makeshift command tent where the standing officer-in-charge of the Pakistani CRBN ops stood observing them.

They waited as Han Feng and the Jatayu did, though unsure of what. Until a mysterious hooded man with bow slung over his shoulder entered. The platoons' resident Prachin Vyadh Hunter, Huntsmen Onir.

The people in his way moved aside as he walked up to the table and lay what looked like a tourist brochure out with the general layout of the embassy for all of them to see.

"I see…. three points of entry. So how do we wanna do this?" A paramarine sergeant made the guess from his observations.

"I'd say, we should take the South back entrance to avoid whatever's spawning out from the front and flank. Sound like a plan?" The approval of Han Feng was soughted out most. To some, he looked like he still had spots on him or was fresh out of boot. Sure, he wasn't the best when it came to many of the notable leaders of the Kyrati Army, but Han Feng did have traits that gave him a standing chance.

"Onir, what can you tell me about the place?" He asked in a flat tone, ignoring their suggestions.

"Pandemonium….." The hunter summarized it in a single word.

"The spirits?" There was a scoff somewhere among the Americans, but nobody cared enough about one person's view.

"Everything." They didn't understand the ways of the Hunters like Han Feng or the Kyrati soldiers for that matter. To know the ley lines of karma that few gifted with its sight could avert impending disaster.

"There were signs of scratch markings from here out to the perimeter walls, but not a body in sight."

Now they started to find that weird, no longer joking about his "clairvoyant" intuition. Somebody on the inside was clearing out the bodies.

"Not one?" David asked.

"There's not even a single spiritual vein in the area, it is as if the surrounding prana has been absorbed and gathered into one central mass inside this building."

"That looks like the recreations building, why would whatever you're talking about be irradiating from there?" Perkins asked.

"I'm only telling you what I sense."

It didn't make sense, why was this sorcery happening from a place that had nothing to do with Jason Brody's original proving mission?

"Maybe…." Someone from Army spoke up. "That's where they hold their interrogations. Yunno, those bullshit secret CIA safehouses and torture chambers."

"Well that makes sense."

"Alright." Han Feng declared as he had made his decision before they knew it.

"We split into four groups. Twenty a group and two NCOs from each party. Agreed?"

There were no refutes so it was agreeable to both sides.

"Group one will follow Sergeant Becker's suggestion and take the back entrance. You up to take the lead, sergeant?" He received a nod from said person to voice his acceptance of the task at hand.

"Group two will head to the roof of this building." He pointed to a tall one in the vicinity.

"That's on the opposite side, you want us on overwatch?"

"I want you to use that to rappel down to the roof top of the recreations building." So he wanted them on a top-down assault into the building.

"Volunteers?"

"I'll do it." Perkins announced.

"You tag along with Huntsmen Onir, he'll handle the rappelling equipment. Onir, you know where to find it." The Hunter melted into the background to get to work sourcing the harpoon and line.

"Group three will plant demolition here, here and here."

"You wanna level the building?"

"Whatevers coming out from there needs to be stopped." That they couldn't fault.

"What about the last group?"

"I'll be leading it, and we'll be taking the front entrance."

No rookie would say something like that, they were convinced Han Feng knew what he was doing. And that was leading by example.

The two platoons of soldiers, a composite of Americans and Himalayans exchanged some of their kit amongst each other when the commanders and NCOs returned from briefing. Han Feng had said nothing about the objectives, but they all knew what to do. Neutralize and recover Jason Brody in whatever state he's in.

The Jatayu commandos received automatic shotguns that Legion appropriated from the base armouries from the latter. Members of Legion received slugger anti-material guns in return.

"All of you…" The sorting of ammunition and weapons halted as all faces turned towards David as he made an address.

"Gentlemen. There're no words to describe the sacrifices you've made today. Its with deep regret that I inform you we're still far from our final destination. In a way….. we can take comfort this isn't where we're supposed to end yet. We do this not for yourselves or country. But for the man next to you who's in the same situation as you." He was obviously referring to the Americans exclusively.

"Never thought I'd welcome you airforce boys like Perkins skirt chases." They airforce soldiers laughed especially loud among the group to his little inside military branch joke.

"We didn't decide to come here to fight and be left behind. But we sure as hell will chose where the end of the road will be for us all!"

If he had meant to rouse them with his speech, David had accomplished that without seeming unrealistic and had given only simple words.

"I wish all of you all the best and know that our efforts aren't just for ourselves or families. It'll be for a new generation that'll have a safe future."

The soldiers with no nation were on high spirits as they assembled into their file and rank alongside the Jatayu ranks.

"Inspiring speech." Han Feng commended.

"Thanks, turned out better than I hoped."

"It was good. I don't want to put you on high hopes, but you know how Badala is, right?" David understood it to a certain degree. He had after all given him and his marines safe passage back to Washington previously.

"Hmm. So, off to hunt for Brody then."

"Yeah."

David was about to dismiss the men standing at attention to carry out their plans when he noticed that the Himalayans had stood rather still during and after his addressing of their situation.

"They seem anxious." He surmised from their stiffness.

"They're raring to go." They were excited to go? It sure didn't look like it to him.

"Really? You sure you don't wanna pep talk'em first?" He didn't believe it was excitement for such a perilous mission, this was "Snow White" after all. It was like capturing an invincible beast.

Han Feng only sighed as he said it. "They don't need motivational speeches."

He then turned to the Jatayu who took attention of his with their eyes only.

"JATAYU!" He said to their attention.

"Aap kya ischcha karate hain? (What is it you seek?)" He asked in the native language.

To which the roar of fifty shook the wary Pakistani soldiers watching the perimeter.

"""AD TAKKA SABASE BADASHIKAAR! (The greatest hunt that ever was!)"""

They let them know, the hunters of beasts had come for their prize.

And the beast heard it too, deep within its lair.

It waited for them all along.

Shangri-la, the land of paradise.

A world of absolute beauty and perfection, the likes of which mortals had only heard of it in old tales. To the point that it had been surmised as a myth in the eyes of pragmatists.

Shangri-la was very real.

The unnamed Deva who sow the seeds of miracles nurtured the hills into mountains, barren plains into lush valleys and breathed life into its cradle. Shangri-la didn't exist separate from the Himavanas, it was very much apart of it as a mother and a new-born. So it became natural for its inhabitants and immigrants to assume that the paradise were better pastures.

It was not wrong for the Yaksha to relish in their victory over the four ancient races. But that right could easily be taken from them just as well if they didn't hold on to it tight. No one was capable of challenging the Will of the Mountain and Shangri-la for almost four thousand years, except one time when a demonic being that came into existence seeking revenge against those that had wronged him in life. However, it was the Himavanas which had been on the receiving end and not the holy lands and lakes of Shangri-la. So the rulers of the land had nothing to fear, though they wondered what would be the price if Yalung truly had come to Shangri-la. If Lord Eternal could still stop it, what would be left of their paradise shattered, where would they live? In the same cold and unforgiving world, the Humans lived, or the shadows where the Rakshasa lurked. When the demon god fell to the might of the Demon Banishers and was sealed at Hajura Amako Hatama, they thought that chapter had passed.

Then here came an intruder. And he bore the fragments of Yalung in full power.

Andhakan would realize but refuse to accept the peril he'd invited into their world.

He'd just brought the ancient nightmare of all Yaksha into their doorstep and awakened it.

[Take this fool away before he opens the gates to Naraka!]

His elder brother might be doing him an irrepayable favour, but he was also removing an obstacle in his way to his own Kingship. Jaivant, Second Son of Lord Eternal couldn't care less about the battle royale so much as defending their homeland. So he was indifferent to the screaming protests and death threats from his younger brother for robbing him of this opportunity to redeem his actions. In truth, there was no redeeming this. Andhakan would pay a heavy penalty which could mean forcibly removing him from power all together.

Even as the charioteers restraint and pulled Andhakan and escorted the other Prince to safer distances, the demon was wrecking havoc upon the lands and the armies.

Every swing of his howling mace, sent masses of Yaksha Warriors to an early grave. Every roar of insatiable fury robbed courage from the Armies best warriors. A bloodthirsty aura engulfed the area where the Will of Shangri-la should have been, watching over them like heaven's aura. The Will was gone, they had all seen it being vanquished by none other than the Demon itself. Though many veterans from the first wars were among their ranks, they too weren't immune to the creeping of fear in their hearts. Every second that went by, another Yaksha or two would cease to exist. How could they not be afraid when none of their kind have ever sustained loss like this since the first Great War.

[Little Fourth… you have done it now…..] The cunning but fatigued Second Son of Lord Eternal sighed to himself. Jaivant however, didn't have the luxury to escape. He had a name to uphold and a duty to carry.

[My loyal guards, shall we entertain our guest with our brand of hospitality?]

His request was met with the crossing of lances and unshakeable will. Twelve spearmen flew in rank and file where he took the lead towards their most dangerous adversary yet. Sensing a shift in flow, the Demon turned on instinct in the direction their approached.

[Here he comes!]

Shouting the obvious, but not uncalled for. As it saved lives with early warning to the intent of the Demon's godly reflex.

[Go!] The Second Prince fluidly released his remote weapons to counter-attack, depriving the Demon of its first strike. The floating Vajra weapons encircled the approaching Demon, set to attack from the flanks.

(BOOOMM) "ERRAAAAAHHH!"

[Now!]

[Attack!]

It managed to give them the opening they were looking for, the strange flyby formation they adopted resembled the movements of a centipede. Their spears reflecting the feet sliced at a spot repeatedly. When the Demon was occupied by the barrages of lances, those free attacked from another location and the train followed.

(BANG)

Their success came in the Demon falling from the sky and cratering an island, but it was far from defeated, let alone done. They did however, buy everyone time to escape and forces still staying to regroup. They kept up their assault in the same fashion without even giving the Demon a chance of respite. Inflicting severe damage that would have certainly led to death, but not this Demon. As in the split second the wounds opened, the black flames devoured all injuries restoring his flesh to perfection. But it should have been fatigued from all the damage it had to recover from. Yet, a daunting feeling encroached on the second prince's mind. If the Demon were weakening, why hadn't the aura of bloody sky dissipated yet?

(Thaaaannnngggg) As the slithering formation came in for another pass, the Darkstone Mace came into contact with one of the spears, instantly bending it out of proportion. He raised the mace for another swipe that would end its wielder's life had the Vajras not move in to take the blow for the royal guard. Detonating with a force which broke the formation and sent its members scattered about.

(BOOMM)

By the time the Prince had come too, the Demon was before him, staring him down. But not alone, for the very Royal Guard he sacrificed a weapon for was held in his talons, part of him that remained to be exact.

Quick on his feet, he had no luxury of lamentations or thought. He retreated with the remaining Vajra to cover his breathing space.

[Heyaah!] A disciplined convergence of spears struck while the Demon was preoccupied by the Vajras once again. Tearing through the remnants of his human armour like tissue, but flesh that seemed almost as thick and resilient as a dragon's scales. What little nicks instantly recovered without difficulty.

The Demon swayed his mace with a blast of howling wind, as they avoided it and resisted the vacuum. The Vajras once again came in to reinforce the Yaksha Guard. Understanding the importance of their synergy, and what time it bought for more powerful figures to make their appearance.

The Second Prince knew there was little he could do besides delaying the inevitable. However, Shangri-la was not without trumps. Besides the all-powerful Lord of the mountains, there were in fact, two members of their army. Unparallel and unequal. If Yalung had truly invaded Shangri-la during its birth, these two would most certainly be there to rid the Himavanas of such an anti-thesis.

[When are they arriving?]

All he could do was murmur a complaint as he continued to occupy the Demon. Even he had a limit to how long he could continue to fight in disfavor, the depleting sacred weapons and boons bestowed upon him, his retinue of capable warriors, and his very strength. Unlike the other princes, the Second Prince acknowledged his mortality. He also respected that he wasn't dealing with an abnormal Demon Banisher nor a mere fragment of Yalung, but a full-fledged Demon in his own right. And in doing so, gave him his greatest edge of caution against his foes and siblings alike. However, it was only a matter of time before even he fell prey to the Demon.

The first step to such a reality became true as he released more Vajras from his stash to join the battle only to witness something strange with the Demon. The invader struck its mace deep into the earth which caused the ground to crumble around them due to the null properties of the Darkstone.

Why would it lower its defensive strength? This motive became curiouser by the second as it held out a hand towards said prince to his bafflement. And with a grasping motion of his palm, the very fabric of space surrounding them was torn to shreds. The second prince dropped to a knee, puking blood from spiritual damage sustained from a severed connection to his weapons. He had not time to ponder on how it managed to do that, he had no time to even think he was safe either, and rightfully so.

For demoic aura began to visibly seep into the inert Vajras where the Second Prince's self had vacated said weapons and forcibly occupied those hollows to be filled with unrivalled malice.

[By the gods-…. Watch out!]

He came to realise too late as the pulsating red-Vajras flew in an erratic but formulated pattern unfamiliar to him. His warning to his elite warriors turned out to be in vain. His hijacked weapons turned around and swooped down upon the backs of his warriors. Skewering the majority who had their backs turned and injuring those lucky to dodge at the last possible moment.

Now, they had nothing left to fend or stand against the Demon.

The reversal of fortunes happened too quick for them to register. Which they desperately tried to avoid the second dive attack of the accursed Vajras, they'd completely neglected the Demon. As it appeared before them in their last moments, bringing down its ungodly mace to turn them into mash.

[Leave us. My Prince!] One of the few guards managed to say before the Demon ended his life too.

His remaining warriors devoted all their remaining strengths in keeping the Demon occupied as long as possible while the Prince sought to make his retreat, he had no intention of dying here today. But if it was fate, he was more than willing to accept it.

With the sudden eerie quiet to his back, dread began to creep its way into his heart naturally. His Royal Guard had done all the could but failed to even slow the Demon at the cost of their precious lives. A prey would always fear the pursuit of a predator which he had no defense against.

He sacrificed more boons to accelerate himself, knowing that was all he could do for himself. The Demon recognized it as the same treasured technique used by the late Third Prince. The fool thought he was the only one in possession of such a technique, his conceitness was what assured his elder brother's confidence in defeating it. But now, he was in a moment where none of that mattered.

He managed to delay the inevitable by outrunning the Demon, if only for a moment. For the Demonised Vajra entered his flank vision, they had been sent ahead to deal the same kind of damage upon their former master.

Knowing the powers of the very weapons bestowed upon him by his own father poisted to take his life. All he could do was accept the fate that was given to hi- (BANG)

As the closest Vajra came almost a metre from taking his life, the weapon imploded unintentionally. Several more Vajra sought to follow in the first's vector in impaling him from different angles but fell prey to a stream of light which passed through each of the weapons causing it to detonate.

[W-What?-…]

(BOOOM) "ERRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

A roar of agony that made all the other deep wounds they had given previous sound like nicks or superficial wounds shook the still air. A fist sized hole appeared where the Demon's heart should've been, however the latter was on its knees for the first time. As the wound it received continued to drain at its life.

Such raw damage in such a clean and efficient means of killing one's hunt. This power was exclusive to only one person that Second Prince Jaivant knew. As much as he disliked the idea of being indebt to someone such as "him". Even if that person hardly cared for such trivials.

(BOOM) (BOOM) A relentless hail of light streams repeatedly struck the Demon even in its immobilized state. Instinct governed its movement, therefore it followed it by escaping.

Rising to his feet, Yaksha warriors with yellow sashes around their necks moved in to secure him in the most disciplined manner. Interlocking shields with pikes facing out as the local commander pulled him away towards the rearguard.

These weren't Royal Guard, nor were they the natural Army. But "that" person's own Warriors, a different caliber of men and women. All sworn loyalty to him before the Lord of the Mountain, leading to much controversy. But the one leading them wouldn't rebel as many would think, even the Second Prince understood that. For this person was even closer in-line to the Shangrilan throne than him.

A figure flew passed him in complete indifference to his well being, focused only on the task at hand. The duty he was bestowed with in safeguarding Shangri-la with his life.

Adorn in grey armour in contrast to the typical golden-ornate armoured Yakshan Army. Its dull look hardly made his appearance unappealing, in fact, it brought out the striking features of his face and figure. Still capable of bewitching young and innocent hearts of maidens, a cool and tranquil state of mind to match his confidence and valiant look. Even as he hated to admit his inferiority to "him", the Second Prince was not so easily narrow-minded as the younger Princes to such a mundane complex of superiority. "He" was after all the one Andhakan constantly sought to overtake and surpass, hating every moment he was the lesser which was all the time.

They, the Royal Princes all shared blood with him through the one and only Holy Father of Shangri-la, even if their mothers who sired them were different.

He was the one every Yaksha aspired to be or be with in their fantasies. The pinnacle of what their kind could achieve with the sole acception of their most holy father.

[Royal Brother….]

There were rare moments Jaivant would bother to even acknowledge that fact when in contact with "him", but honour dictated a position of humility to the one who still saved him from certain death. The Second Prince had done his part in delaying the Demon until reinforcements arrived. And now, the Demon was to suffer at the hands of a force unmatched under the Lord of the Mountains.

It would fall prey to the bow of the First Prince of Shangri-la, Asharya Kamiya Anant Akaash.

For if the Demon's host was once unmatched in the mortal realm, Asharya was invincible in an undying eternal paradise.

In all of its reign of terror upon paradise, the demon's aura that filled the space of the Will of Shangri-la had vanished. Prioritizing energies towards recovery instead, the wounds left by the sudden assault weren't easily recoverable.

There weren't any Vedic scripts in the projectiles that struck it, only raw power and magic eroding its ability to heal. Just when the wounds closed, two more beams of light struck the same place one after another, with a difference of only mere milimetres.

The state of mind in the Demon was like a wild beast, following instinct to the level of reflexes. Even in the most basic of intuitions, it told the Demon that this particular lone Yaksha was bad news. Not "Four Princes and an army to back them" bad, but a "single misstep could lead to utter destruction" type of danger.

"ERRRAAAHHH!" (Thang)

However, the same could be said for this Yaksha. The Darkstone Mace swatted the arrows of light with ease. He could still be mortally wounded by the mace as the Demon could by "his" bow. A ranged weapon that was far from ordinary, obvious from its intricate carvings upon bright wood.

The Demon turned its defense to offense with a counterattack from its Mace, sending a vacuum wave of destruction towards the Yaksha. Twisting his body out of the way whilst in flight and sending a multi-shot of arrows flying back the Demon's way in response.

Where several missed in the scattershot, a few made their mark upon the Demon. Blowing the mace clean from its grasp.

In the distance, two beings observed this confrontation from different ends. Came to a similar conclusion about the Demon. That the temporary loss of the mace meant nothing to how dangerous it still was.

Apparently, the Yaksha engaged with him knew that. Taking advantage of the Demon's feign to lure him in for a careless use of moment. He fired a succession of arrows into the air before switching to sword and buckler shield holstered on his person and flew to meet the Demon head on. Where others had foolishly met their demise at the hands of the Demon, it knew he wasn't charging foolhardily.

When the other Yaksha goaded the Demon into fighting them more seriously, to their misunderstanding. This one was quiet, if not entirely silent.

So it was no surprise that instead of bloodied gore a sudden vacuum of air struck his shield indenting the figure of a punch instead. Followed by a blade running across the Demon's wrist, impairing its strength of grip.

What followed was a roundhouse kick to the defending shield to give distance between them. Something an animal wouldn't do. As the Demon drew combat techniques from its host's memories into the fray.

And following the style of the Demon of Lanka, it lunged forwards to steal all breathing space between them. Punching out with a technique that shouldn't have been in the hands of mortals but missed its target whose agility was comparable.

The ancient art thought lost, Paragon Fist was only effective when it hit its target. How it could be differentiated from a mere powerful punch was the overlapping after-image of a humungous hand striking down the enemy, as if a heavenly Deva's hand were smiting an evil sinner with divine retribution. The very earth around them quaked and cracked from the unimaginable pressure generated from a single fist. That was the Paragon's Fist.

When the Demon's hand retracked to send another one his way, the Yaksha interrupted the move as it was coming forward gaining momentum, with the curved end of the shield he wielded. His shield moved aside, making way from the sword slash at the exposed wrist of the Demon. Enchanted blade carving through flesh and bone until it stopped midway, an insufficient strength to free its hand from the wrist. Before he could cut any further, a spike rose out from the cracked down piercing his grey scheme armour, effectively skewering the Yaksha. Even though failing to hit vitals with the Demon's newest manifestations, as more black spikes jutted out from the earth to impale him fully. The shield he had most handily used reached the end of its use as the spikes turned it in place of the Yaksha into swiss cheese.

Even so, it had him in place, no longer moving about dodging its attacks. The Demon invoked the same magic as the spike, from black flames forming a void metal spear in its good hand to run through the Yaksha.

Only by grace of the sword now in a two-handed grip, parted the manifested spear in two before it crumbled out of existence in the Demon's hand. In response, the Demon reattached its dangling hand before summoning something a lot sturdier into its grip. Flying towards it and defying gravity in the process, the mace almost reached the Demon before-

(BOBOBOOOM) The succession of three hypersonic darts rained down upon the Demon who cried out in agony. The mace fell to the floor as the force of attraction dissipated. As the Demon operated on react and response principle, the Yaksha circumvented its inability to think ahead. The arrows he had let loose before entering hand-to-hand combat had come down upon the exact place he pushed the Demon into thinking it had him.

The Second Prince shuddered from where he stood watching, the risk and planning that he made during the heat of battle was abnormal.

Whilst in pain, the Demon slapped the ground which caused a rumbling to take place. Spikes began to burst out of the ground as black monolithic crystallised flames changed the nature of the fighting venue. Until it became as dense as a forest of jet-black pillars. The demon resorted to narrowing the working space which the Yaksha previously had the luxury to exploit.

At this very moment, he stood face to face with the burning demon. A smile crept onto his face for just a slight moment.

[Clever.]

He spoke to the Demon for the first time, commending its ability to narrow its prey. This Yaksha, this Prince was aware of a great many things going on in the Himavanas. And as such, was prepared for the event that the Fragment of Yalung should ever come to Shangri-la unchasted and without clear conscience. Such was the providence given to him.

As he thought these things, the Paragon Fist came his way. With no room to manoeurve and nothing to block it with, things seemed hopeless to the ordinary.

Yet, grasped his bow once more and strung a volley of arrows with the assistance of a multi-release tool. The Demon in performing its technique felt a strange notstalgia after getting a closer look than mere glimpses previously, of the bow currently in the Yaksha's hands. But it didn't hesitate to pummel the Yaksha like its fellow kinsmen and proceeded on in flattening him with a seemingly invincible technique.

(BANG) As the streams of light struck against the invincible pressure, created a deafening percussion of impacts and blinding light, disorientating even the residence from a distance. When the light subsided even as the ringing in the ears prevailed, the victor of that power challenge had been made clear.

The Demon lay face down in the ash fall of crystallised black flame that had been destroyed by the shockwave. In its weakened state, a memory from one of its past lives reminisced an epic in relation to this turn of event. It remembered a young seeker in paradise, itself. Wielding tooth of Rakshasa to fell its adversary beside faithful companion, the White Tiger Guardian. But Shangri-la had a hand in assisting this warrior, bequeathing at his feet a weapon wielded by a fallen compatriot seeker who faild to live up to the task of saving paradise.

It recalled this memory, because the Yaksha had performed a move to counter the pressure, that wasn't physically possible without some sort of trade-off. For the Demon was sure his pressure had destroyed the arrows, and yet, another wall of resistance pushed its way against the pressure.

It wasn't a wall in actuality, but another volley of arrows.

Another volley in that split second was impossible to pull off even by the legendary bowmen of mythical times. But not if the wielder had a certain bow, a bow that could manipulate the very fabric of time. Turning the sense of time from seconds into minutes long, minutes to hours. And so, the pressure of the Paragon Fist dealt not with a single volley of sacred arrows, but dozens in but the span of milli-seconds.

A feat made possible to the Yaksha by means of the Bow of Shangri-la he wielded. The weapon Kalinag once used to banish the Rakshasa from paradise.

Did it just lay there accepting such a thing, even if the memories were just shared?

The answer came in the form of a brewing hurricane of black ash that engulfed the shattered grounds. Before the very air surrounding and at the eye of the storm ignited once more, creating a firestorm of blackened hatred materialized.

The Yaksha exhaled in his composure as he strung yet another volley of arrows to his treasured bow and aimed up towards the centre of the storm. His concentration was not dissuaded by the spikes that crystallized within the maelstrom once more, adding lethality to the composition.

Then, as if the spikes were alive. Forming the collective mass of a serpent within the hurricane, converged on the single entity that had proven to endanger the existence of the Demon more times than it was capable of cognitively counting.

The successor of the Bow took no heed to the imminent storm of death approaching. Only a disciplined focus of mark was applied.

When the first arrows left the string, becoming rays of light piercing through the darkness. It became an awe-inspiring sight from outside, as the greatest evil to come to Shangri-la had just been ridden. The moment the core of the storm was blown out of existence, the serpent of spikes collapsed into harmless dust once more.

An unsettling tranquility dominated the battlefield where Shangri-las' mightiest had emerged victorious. The triumphant one stood in the silence, acknowledging the disappearance of the Demon in any physical form within the vicinity.

Then a thunderous roar of triumphant hearts broke the serenity, as the residence and remainders of the Shangri-lan Army raised their hands and weapons into the air. Shouting a proclamation of revelry for the First Prince of Shangri-la. Undoubted was his unparrellel might to sway all who stood as an obstacle to the path of peace and tranquility.

Some proclaimed their undying love for him, others pledged their allegiance to the one they thought would be King. As for the victor himself, he left after a distant look towards the outskirt city and passing a glance in the direction of the Second Prince who only exchanged stares with one another. Without so much as haughtiness in reveling his success as the host of the Demon had the general impression of all Yaksha. He was a queer one as the Second Prince of Shangri-la had always remembered. Though their indifference to one another was like a gap in their relationships, there was understanding of a status quo to keep up. He was after all, competing with "him" for the throne their father would relinquish. Although he wondered now more than ever, after seeing that same look on his face as he did for ages. Did his Royal Brother truly desire the throne as they did?

Troubled he was, more than the notion his efforts to delay the Demon had been completely overwritten. A surely petty dispute the younger of his brothers would bother to address. There was something amiss about the happenings here today. As the masses celebrated their defence of Shangri-la, nobody seemed to question where this Demon came from or how it had come into Shangri-la? Most likely, Andhakan would be guilty as charged. But that was missing the point that only plebians would ignore.

How could something such as the Fragment of Yalung grow to such proportions of strength without them noticing? Or was it.

It made him believe that no one else but his Holy Father knew of its existence made manifested. In other words, this was within the grand schemes of none other than Eternal Heaven himself. It was no doubt without a single shed of coincidence.

Making the Second Prince fearful in his heart.

If the shaking of paradise by the Demon today was but the opening salvos, then sort of event would follow. He could only picture one thing. A peril to their way of life like none other. And no one else came to mind but the Rakshasa. Come to reclaim their stolen crown, to punish them with eternal suffering and death. For the prophecy of the Asura was not an obscured tale, but one significantly misread.

Now the Second Prince understood the true nature of things to come. He was indeed pleased that he didn't return to his abode emptyhanded. Instead he'd gathered an important clue to the coming events that would rock heaven and earth. Because in war, it wasn't always the one with the strongest might that succeeded.

Although, he would never have suspected that such an event would be triggered by the very same Demon he'd faced today. For he was sure his brother had vanquished it in its entirety. So sure, he and those who called paradise their home neglected to notice the flickering lifeforce that hung from the tattered and broken flesh leaping from floating island to island in search of safety.

This wounded animal struck a remote floating island like a meteor, disturbing only its native habitat of wildlife. Staining the very crater with its blackened blood and heavy rasping.

(Jiggle)

The chime of metal rings colliding with one another, made the wounded Demon turn wearily.

To who had appeared before it recklessly to become nothing but sustanence? There was no such person. Only the figure of a monk wielding a sounding staff wrapped in plain cassocks murmuring a prayer. Yet the mere presence of this figure unleashed carried an imposing might and will far exceeding its own strength or any other beings' strength and power it had seen. This man was not native to Shangri-la but had resided here long ago, during a period of his lifetime that could only be described as metamorphosis. And unlike another of being, the Will of the Mountain did not deny his existence, as for Eternal Heaven, neither did he have the right to do so. For the monk and the mountains were like old friends meeting each other after many lifetimes.

Fear was non-existent to the entity currently known as the Demon. Once it had recovered most of its grievous wounds, it would continue its fight unending.

The hooded monk sighed to himself, the will of the host was rubbing off onto the Demon in ways it couldn't even comprehend, not that it ever held comprehension to its existence than to merely act it out.

"Your mindlessness ends now." Said passive yet with authority.

"EERRRRAAAAAAAHHHH!" The Demon roared in defiance to his proclamation.

Black flames burst from its extermities and formed shape of spikes that flew towards the monk with lethal intent.

(chime) With just a tap of his sounding staff upon the ground, the stakes shattered into nothing, just as the black viscous flames were forcibly extinguished.

Witnessing the ineffectiveness of its newfound abilities, the Demon turned to its most reliable weapon. Drawing it to him from afar, while the merrymakers forgot the lying treasures.

Once in its possession, the Demon drew back its mace to unleash its most powerful swing attack upon a seemingly hapless holy man.

Though the truly hapless one was in fact the former. As the monk's next action was both swift yet dominating that the Demon genuinely had no defense against. One hand pointed to his temple, another at the Demon. He said but a single chantless word that put an end to the Demon's rampage and turmoil in heaven and earth.

"Seal!"

Demonic aura vanished from the remote island now uninhabited by its fleeing wildlife. Almost as if it wasn't there at all. But the monk was there, so too was the host of the Demon lying unconscious in whatever nightmare haunted his entire possession.

Briefly, the monk examined the mace that had been willingly fused spirit to the man named Ajay Ghale. Held in his hands like a stick to its deceivingly hefty weight.

"The will of the Vanara too?" He looked upon the host with deepen sorrow.

"Even when you have so much upon your shoulders….."

The being that held the name "Ajay Ghale" was indeed something else. As the mace spoke to the monk in ways no man could ever understand.

But the monk stood up with his sounding staff, gladden by the things he'd learnt. The magnimity of one deed would be rewarded a hundredfold, such was the way of Karma. Ajay Ghale might dance to the strings of someone, tread the path laid out by a mortal enemy, tied down by past life relations. But there was something about him that no one could fully comprehend. Something that Eternal Heaven, Esha or the 9th Successor could never expect from this one vessel holding many souls.

The monk bent down and placed something into Ajay Ghale's hand. A token left behind in his rampage. A keepsake he'd bestowed upon him ages ago in hopes he would find his way and carve a destiny not just for himself, but for all who were discarded in the Mountains.

The monk departed on que, as figures appeared within the vicinity to investigate the disturbance.

Would Ajay awaken in chains or into another stage set of pandemonium? The tiny trinket left to him certainly didn't leave him in any shortages of occurrence, both of fortune and misfortune.

But Ajay Ghale would certainly prove to all who meddle with fate.

With Kalachakra in hand or not, Shangri-la and the Himavanas will never remain quiet again.

Author's Notes:

Once again, apologies for the many delays and minor hiatus. Now that this troublesome chapter is out of the way, we can proceed with the story. YAY!